


Ghosts

by estrellita5151



Category: Captain America (Movies), Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Blood and Violence, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Crossover, F/M, First Time Topping, Flashbacks, Forgive Me, How Do I Tag, Hydra (Marvel), I Tried, M/M, Original Character(s), Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn, Triggers, What Have I Done, What Was I Thinking?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-23
Updated: 2018-08-23
Packaged: 2019-07-01 08:19:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15770208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/estrellita5151/pseuds/estrellita5151
Summary: A Winter Soldier Story"If you let my soul go free, it would come right back to you."~Anastasia Plisetsky thought that she would be finally having a positive influence on the world. Making a good change for once.She thought that she would be preserving what little family she had left. Keeping them safe by leaving.She thought that she would be safe. From the past and the nightmares that plagued her sleep.She was wrong.So wrong.~~~~~~James doesn't remember his past, nor does he question it. He just pushes on, not establishing a connection with anyone unless it's unavoidable.Therefore, he won't have anything to forget.~~~Or: a Marvel au which takes place over the course of the time before The Winter Soldier, into Civil War, and after that time as well. I have changed parts through the movies to fit my story, so don't expect a complete copy. And also, crossover with Yuri on Ice cause why not.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have finally decided to post on my AO3 account, I also have a Wattpad (same username) that I write on alot from my phone and then post. Go check it out if you can!

POVs will switch from chapter to chapter. And fair warning, this is a crossover.


	2. Chapter 1. Someone, Somewhere, With Something New

Ana

I park my car in the underground garage of the large building, looking around at the sparsely lighted concrete. Getting out from behind the wheel, I grab my few bags from the back seat, and lock the vehicle on my way to the elevator, waiting as the contraption takes me to my floor. I glance both ways in the hallway, seeing no one else, then retrieve my keys. I open the door to my new apartment, looking at the white walls, empty shelves, and few pieces of furniture. Weeks ago, I had picked it out, looking for one not too close to my new place of work, but one in the city. This apartment had just enough room for me to spread out when I need space to work and look over multiple files. Taking my bags and suitcase inside, I look through the modern living room, with a small, soft scarlet couch in the middle of the area facing a flat screen and a work desk with a lamp on one wall. 

Peeking into the kitchen that was set apart from the living area by modern white shelves, I see the kitchen has up to date appliances, a small dining table, and two chairs seated at the counter. The counters are a dark grey stone and I look through the window above the kitchen sink out to the city.

Making my way back through the living area and to the hall I find a closet with a mirror next to it, then turn down the corner, finding the bedroom. The sunlight is held back by thick curtains, and the room only has one empty, full sized bed, and a dresser for clothes. The bathroom is through the only other door in the room, and I find a spacious bath and shower with a large mirror along the length of the counter. Dropping my bags back in the bedroom, I collapse on the bed, staring at the ceiling. 

Considering I had been on two flights in the last sixteen hours, and only just collapsed, I was doing pretty good. Looking at my phone, I realize it is around ten at night in Moscow, and only three in the afternoon here in D. C. I decide on only texting my cousin, Yuri, instead of calling and possibly waking him or my grandfather up. 

Ana:  
Just got to my new apartment, jetlag is a bitch  
Miss you!

Not even a minute later, my cousin's name is lit up on the screen, along with the contact photo he picked for himself, a picture of a Siberian tiger. Picking up the call, a sulking voice gives me no time for a hello as he says, "You wouldn't be missing us if you had simply stayed here."

"Yes, Yura, I am aware." I chuckle at him sadly. "Is Grandpa asleep?"

"Uh, yeah, he was really exhausted and went to bed early. He said he wanted me to tell you good night if I talked to you though." Yura informs me. "He almost set your seat at the table when we were making dinner."

I sigh, rubbing a hand over my tired eyes, "How is he, did he take his medicine today?" 

"Yeah, I'm practically forcing it down his throat, though."

Laughing a little, I say, "That's him alright, does Potya miss me, too?" 

"He most certainly does not, I'm his favorite of course." Yura boasts, then there is a shuffling noise on the line, and then a meow follows. "Right, Potya?"

Another laugh escapes me, "Might have to find my own kitty to share my apartment with," I tease.

"Or . . . " Yuri drags out the sound, "You could find yourself a partner." I can hear the smirk in his voice.

Starting to put away my packed clothes in the drawers of the dresser, I tell him, "We both know I fly better solo." 

He chuckles at this, "There's got to be someone somewhere in D.C. that you find attractive. Come on, you haven't dated anyone in literally forever."

I roll my eyes, "Just haven't found the right one yet."

"Well maybe if you didn't work so hard, you never leave yourself time. Not to mention every date I was able to push you into, you found some reason as to why you would never consider a second." 

"Firstly, my job can be demanding. Secondly, all those dates were with people I barely knew, who are your rink mates. First Viktor, when we clearly had no interest in being more than friends, then Mira, who was quite cute, but she was a little too much for me. I think she's rubbed off on you now that you're trying to find me a date." I tease him.

"That old hag?" He scoffs. "Never. But I will admit those two were probably not the best choices . . ." Yura mutters, "Oh, when is your meeting? Tomorrow, right?"

"Yeah, nine o'clock on the dot, right in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s headquarters," I tell him, hanging up the black pants and blouse I had picked out for tomorrow.

"Did they give you any further details on the job?"

"Just the time of the meeting, and that they needed someone who can do psychological evaluations, and read neural patterns." 

"You make it sound simple," Yuri scoffs. "Remember, if they don't pay you enough, you could always find another job back here."

"I know, but a job with S.H.I.E.L.D. . . . I can't turn it down. They are one of the most secure defense groups in the world." I tell him.

"So what? They have a fancy title. Doesn't make them great." Yura replies, and I can imagine the scowl he must be wearing.

"Yeah," I fiddle with the fabric, trying to get the little wrinkles from being packed in a suitcase out of the pants. "I know."

Yura sighs heavily. "It's strange . . . not having you here again . . . and I was just getting used to it." 

"I'll be back before you know it." Yura doesn't tell many people what he really thinks, I'm the exception though, he knows I can read him like a book, seeing right through the Russian punk facade. I am quiet, thinking of how I had been living with Yura in Grandpa's apartment for the last year and a half. It had been so peaceful until a month ago. 

My last job in Russia was in Moscow, working for the government and being one of the many doctors they employ to do evaluations on the mental states of a variety of people, from criminals to agents and even kids sometimes. Those were the interesting sessions, a child's mind is beyond the title of complex. 

But one day I had found an unmarked folder in my paper work on my desk. I had had no idea how it had found its way there, my office was locked every night, and I was the only one with a key.

When I opened it, there were two things inside. One was a laminated card that had one word on it: Call, and then a phone number beneath it. The other object was a photograph of a crashed car, the hood wrapped around the trunk of a tree, burn marks left from a fire that had been long extinguished, the windows shattered, and glass shards strewn about. I had recognized the photo immediately.

That week I had resigned. 

When Yura and my grandfather had asked why, I simply said that my job was going to moved to a different department, and my hours were going to be cut in half. 

That was one of the few times I had ever lied to them.

After that I had looked around for another job, applying for positions in different countries, hoping for something. Then I put a resume in an application for a position with S.H.I.E.L.D. thinking it wouldn't hurt. I was surprised when they replied with a letter, entailing that I was being offered a position on a team of doctors for the corporation. Grandpa was proud, and said he could remember when S.H.I.E.L.D. had been founded at the end of the war when he was only six. Yura, on the other hand, was not pleased. He had stared at the letter so intensely when he read it over I was scared it would burst into flames from his angry expression, then asked, "D.C.? All the way in America? After what happened in New York City? You're not actually going to take the job, are you?"

"I think I might, they are the only one so far that has given me a solid offer . . . " My words had trailed off, seeing his dejected look. I had taken a hold of his hand, pulling him towards me so I could wrap him in a tight hug then, my chin resting on top of his head. "Hey, it wouldn't be the end of the world. I'd keep contact with you of course, always check up on things. And I wouldn't be a distraction when your debut rolls around." 

"I don't care about any of that, I just want you to stay." Yura had stubbornly said.

"Ana?"

My thoughts are pulled back into the here and now, as I hear Yura's voice. "Yeah?"

"Thought I had lost connection for a minute. I'm going to head to bed, call me after your meeting tomorrow?" Yura yawns.

"Was that a kitten yawning?" I tease as he mumbles a curse at me in Russian. "I'll call you after the meeting then, sleep well, Yura."

"Okay . . . Good night, Ana." He says after a pause.

"Night." I hang up after, staring at my phone for silent minute afterwards. Finally getting off the bed, I look at my now empty suitcase and full dresser.

Nodding, I check unpack clothes off my mental chore list. My purse is on the bedside table, and I grab it on my way out of the bedroom. Checking the contents, I make sure I still have my wallet, keys, and the 9mm pistol I always keep as well. Slipping it into my waisband and flipping my jacket over it to conceal it again, I feel its familiar weight and shape. 

Just in case, I remind myself.

Heading out my front door as I lock it, I see a man probably around my age going into the door next to mine. The most startling feature I take notice of is his nose, that looks like it had been broken atleast once, was still slightly off center. He catches sight of me as I try to make it to the elevator without being noticed.

"Oh, hey! You must be my new neighbor?" He asks with a small wave. 

"Yes, just got here today actually." I tell him politely as I wait a little impatiently for the elevator.

"I'm Will." 

"Ana." I reply curtly, picking up on a slight accent creeping into his voice. Just then, the elevator pings, metal doors opening to my escape. "Nice meeting you."

He waves again with a smile as the doors close, and I get an unnerving chill as I see his eyes wander down my figure. Glad to be in the safety of the elevator, I watch the numbers fall as I approach the level of the garage. 

Starting my car again, I Google the closest grocery stores, finding one not far from here. Pulling out of the garage, I set it as my destination as I cast my eyes over the usual traffic. 

~~~

All grocery stores are the same. No matter where you go. 

I have found this to be true as I have been in many. They all contain the same dull color scheme along with the usual employees that avoid customers unless it can't be helped. The only difference is the language you become surrounded by. The labels on each package, the occasional announcements made over a speaker, and most of all the chatter of other people walking down the aisles.

Picking my way through with a small cart, I pick up some essentials, salt, pepper, olive oil, flour, sugar, cocoa, a small carton of eggs, milk, and bread, then a few easy meals like packets of Ramen noodles, and Kraft macaroni and cheese. As I continue down the pasta aisle, I pick up some fettuccini, elbow macaroni, and cavatappi.

My grandfather had taught Yura and I how to cook many things, a lot of the recipes being Russian, but I had found I also loved Italian style food as it often consisted of pasta, which was fast and didn't require much effort.

Picking up some alfredo sauce, I make my way to the fresh vegetables and fruit section. I pick up a few onions and some fresh garlic, already having a recipe in mind, then a few zuchini and summer squash. Going through the fruits, I pick a small bunch of yellow bananas, a few oranges, and apples. I was trying to go for a variety but find myself just picking out only my favorite fruits. Looking for anything else I might like, my eye catches some ripe plums. 

Might as well, I think to myself, seeing that they are on a decent sale. I can't even remember the last time I ate a plum, is my only thought as I pick out a few good ones to purchase. 

Waiting as a cashier scans my items at the register, I pull out my wallet and a few bills. After paying, I push the cart out of the store and towards the direction of my car. Depositing the plastic bags with my groceries in the back, I return the cart and take a seat behind the wheel again. Suddenly a ringtone is coming from my purse, and I have to look at first my personal cell and then my work cell to figure out which is making the incessant noise.

Looking at the caller ID I see a D. C. area code number and pick up. "Hello?"

"Good afternoon, I'm calling for Mr. Pierce, this is his secretary. This is Ms. Plisetsky?" A female voice replies chirpingly. 

"Yes, this is she," I confirm.

"I'm just calling to make sure that the nine o'clock meeting he had scheduled with you was still in order. Are you still available?"

"Yes, I am still planning on it." I tell her.

"Good to hear, Mr. Pierce will be pleased. That's all I had to ask, have a wonderful evening then, Ms. Plisetsky."

"Thank you." I barely get in the words before she hangs up.

~~~

Eating dinner alone is something I haven't done since my last job when I would work late on a few days each week. Sitting at the small dining table that seats only two people, I swirl my fork through the mixture of pasta, meat, and vegetables in my bowl. According to my grandfather, goulash had been one of my grandmother's favorite dishes to make, and that I make mine just like hers. When I was a kid, I had said that one day I would be as good of a cook as her, even though I was never able to remember what her dishes tasted like exactly.

After leaving my rinsed dishes in the sink, I head to bed, setting my alarm for seven, when I know I'll probably get up on my own much earlier. Changing into a comfortable tee and athletic shorts, I look out the windows of the bedroom, staring at the glow coming from the city now that the sun has set. My eyes take in the buildings that range in size and height, liking how the varying shades of light mix together in geometric patterns.

Fresh start, I think to myself, pulling a blanket over my form and settling into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still figuring out AO3 and posting but yeah I'll get there lol idk what I did with the first chapter I posted but I messed it up lol
> 
>  
> 
> And if you didn't catch it, Ana is bi. More lgbt+ interactions to come later on.

**Author's Note:**

> There were actual important things I had to make sure were introduced in this chapter that will come up later. I swear. 
> 
> If any of you have read my other stories (on my Wattpad, same username) you'll know I like changing the POV from chapter to chapter, and it will be introduced in the first line like I have done here, and then the chapter begins. The POV changes will mostly involve Ana and James (Bucky is being referred to as James for now) but may later on include a few others.
> 
> My goal is for chapters to be around 1000 to 2000 words each, but I know not all my future chapters will be so long at some moments but there would be a purpose behind it. 
> 
> Second chapter is from James' POV so be ready. 
> 
> And by the way, if there are any errors that you see please comment and tell me, I have reread this so many times that I gloss right over them at times.
> 
>  
> 
> And apparently, Mila's name is not spelled Mila, it is spelled Mira (according to the official site yurionice.com, I fact checked).
> 
> I just found this out.
> 
> Am I the only one who thought it was spelled Mila, or is this a common occurrence ???
> 
>  
> 
> Until next time 
> 
> ~estrellita5151 *


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